


The Next WinterIron Collection

by Potrix



Series: Everything WinterIron [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Arc Reactor Issues, Asexual Character, Asexual Tony Stark, Asexuality, Babies, Bodyswap, Chronic Pain, De-Aged Bucky Barnes, De-Aged Tony Stark, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Tony Stark, M/M, Magic, Magical Accidents, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: Tony, Bucky, and all their baggage.Everything from the infamous high school alternate universe to de-aged superheroes wreaking havoc.A collection of myImagine Tony and Buckyprompt fills.





	1. De-aged Bucky and Tony

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompt: "Imagine Tony and Bucky get de-aged and don't remember their adult lives. But they really like each other, so they decide to "date" the way grade schoolers often do. Clint laughs at them of course and both Tony&Bucky get mad & force Steve to conduct the playground wedding ceremony." (Originally posted on 30-May-15 [[X](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/120274039806/imagine-tony-and-bucky-get-de-aged-and-dont)])
> 
> Gorgeous art for the story can be found [here](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/125601572430/fanart-for-potrix-the-queerschlaegers-fic-where), [here](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/126101708357/drawing-number-2-for-potrix-the-queerschlaegers), and [here](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/126260855213/last-drawing-for-potrix-the-queerschlaegers-fic).
> 
> Background pairings: Sam/Steve
> 
> Additional warnings: none

By the time everyone is finally back at the tower, the rest of the team is more than ready to leave the tiny, overtired and cranky versions of their friends in Steve’s care and quickly retreat to their own quarters in order to get out of babysitting duty.

“It makes sense, Cap,” Clint points out, just before the elevator doors close behind him, “you’re the one they both recognise.”

Steve glares after him and Tasha for a moment, feeling a little lost, but eventually deflates because Clint’s not wrong.

Ever since the dust of the explosion has settled, the Hulk emerging from the collapsed building with two wailing six-year-olds under his arms, both Tony and Bucky have been clinging to Steve almost desperately.

And it makes sense; Tony has heard all the stories about Captain America and the Howling Commandos from Howard, and Steve and Bucky have been friends since before they could walk or talk, so even if Bucky and Tony don’t remember the other Avengers or their adult lives, they both still know Steve.

So now, with Bruce passed out in one of his post-Hulk naps and Thor back on Asgard trying to figure out how to restore Bucky and Tony to their proper age, it’s up to Steve to look after them in the meantime.

A small hand tugs at his collar and Steve turns his head to glance down at Bucky where he’s perched on his hip, entirely unbothered by the fact that his childhood friend is suddenly all grown up and over six foot tall, looking up at Steve with a thoughtful frown on his face.

“What’s up, buddy?” Steve asks, bouncing him a little and brushing some of the shaggy hair away from Bucky’s forehead, making a mental note to find a hair tie or Scrunchie somewhere before Bucky gets the brilliant idea to solve the problem on his own.

It might have been a while, but Steve hasn’t forgotten that kid Bucky and scissors are definitely not a good mix.

“Tony’s cryin’,” Bucky stage-whispers and sure enough, when Steve whirls around there he is, tucked into the tiny space behind the shoe cabinet, shoulders heaving with big but surprisingly quiet sobs.

Steve hurries over to crouch down next to him, reaching out to place a soothing hand on his shoulder but pulling it back immediately when it makes Tony flinch and then go eerily still, his face hidden away behind his drawn up knees.

“You’re makin’ it worse,” Bucky accuses and Steve shoots him an unimpressed look before focusing back on Tony.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “are you okay? Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Tony considers this for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Well, if you do tell me, maybe I can help and make it better,” Steve reasons, smiling encouragingly when Tony shyly peeks up at him. “Go on, it’s all right.”

“Promise you won’t get mad,” Tony mumbles, nervously biting at his bottom lip. Steve nods and Tony straightens, chin wobbling as he hiccups, “I’m scared,” before bursting into tears again.

Steve automatically goes to touch him, to comfort him, but manages to stop himself at the last second, instead just watching helplessly as Tony cries, his small chest heaving with the effort it takes.

It’s Bucky who comes up with the solution, offering, “Steve gives real good hugs,” and, as if to prove his point, squeezes Steve a bit tighter, snuggling against his side.

Tony squints at them, looking highly sceptical, choking out a shaky, “I’m too old for hugs.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart,” Steve protests, choosing to ignore the nickname slipup for the moment. There are more important things to worry about right now. “You’re never too old for hugs.”

“But Howard says-“

“Howard isn’t here,” Steve interrupts gently, not wanting to hear any more about how his former friend has, apparently, mistreated his only child. He’s angry enough at Howard as it is after having known Tony and some of his history for years now. “And I won’t tell. Promise.”

Sniffling and rubbing at one wet, red-rimmed eye, Tony regards first Bucky and then Steve before he all but throws himself at the latter, clinging to Steve like he’s his last and only lifeline.

Steve lets out a startled oomph at the impact but recovers quickly, awkwardly lifting both boys so he can sit down in one of the armchairs in the adjacent living room because he’s pretty sure they’d never let him hear the end of it once they’re back to normal size if he accidentally dropped one of them.

Tony buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, hands fisted into Steve’s shirt, his breathing slowly but steadily calming back down. Bucky, in contrast, sprawls across Steve’s chest as much as physically possible, one arm slung around Steve’s neck and petting Tony’s hair with his free hand.

“You gotta sing, Stevie,” Bucky tells him. “Ma always sings for me when I’m hurt or sad.”

Steve, knowing that stubborn tone and when to pick his battles, sighs but starts humming.

He’ll have to ask JARVIS to delete the footage later. There’s no way he’s letting grown-up Tony get his hands on this kind of blackmail material.

*** * ***

Bucky is dozing and, Steve suspects, drooling all over Steve’s shirt, Tony seemingly content to simply lie cuddled up against Steve and idly play with Steve’s fingers, amusing himself by slotting his small ones between Steve’s bigger ones or tracing the lines on Steve’s palm.

It’s oddly peaceful, especially compared to how riled-up and manic adult Tony normally gets after battle, and Steve is tired enough from the earlier fight that he doesn’t mind lounging around and just letting his thoughts wander for a little while.

He’s debating on whether to order Italian or Greek for dinner later, leaning toward the first because everyone, probably even de-aged superheroes, likes pasta, when the elevator dings to announce someone’s arrival.

“You know,” Sam starts, the mere sound of his voice carrying over from the hallway making Steve’s lips twitch up into a fond, expectant smile, “we have this you calling me after you go out to risk your life so I know you’re not dead deal for a reason, that reason being that I know you’re not de-“

Sam’s lecture cuts off abruptly once he rounds the corner into the living area and spots the three of them, eyebrows rising. “Assuming those are Barnes and Stark, Natasha’s text just started making a hell of lot more sense.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says sheepishly, tilting his head back to accept the kiss he knows is coming, lingering against Sam’s lips for a moment before pulling back, Sam taking a seat on the arm of the chair. “Things got a little, uh, complicated? I forgot, I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Nah, man, don’t worry about it,” Sam dismisses, pressing another kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Looks like we’ve got our hands full with whatever’s going on here. I’m just glad you’re okay, baby.”

“I am,” Steve reassures him, tipping his head to rest against Sam’s shoulder with a contented hum.

It takes him a moment to notice that something’s off, that Tony has stopped moving and is trying his hardest to make himself as unobtrusive as possible, knuckles turning white he’s holding onto Steve’s hand so tightly, clearly not realising he’s doing it.

“Tony,” Steve says, gently squeezing Tony’s hand, thumb stroking soothingly over the back of it. “This is Sam. Sam, this is Tony.”

Tony eyes Sam warily for a few seconds, then glances back at Steve. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Somewhat thrown by that question, Steve can do nothing more but blink for a long moment. He’s well aware that the adult Tony doesn’t particularly care about his partners’ genders and that he proudly accepts as many invitations to participate in Pride Events as his schedule allows, more often than not dragging the other Avengers along as well, but he, maybe stupidly, hadn’t been expecting any of this to come up with the child version.

“Yes,” Steve manages eventually, just barely resisting the urge to flick Sam in the face when he spots the badly suppressed grin the man is sporting. “Yes, Sam’s my boyfriend. Is that-“ a problem, he wants to ask, but that doesn’t seem right, considering Tony’s current age. Instead he opts for, “Do you know what that means?”

The flat look this earns him perfectly conveys how stupid a question Tony thinks that to be. “It’s like being married, only you’re not married,” he explains which, Steve supposes, is accurate enough. “I know ‘cause Howard has lots of girlfriends and boyfriends. He doesn’t know that I know, but I do.”

Steve’s stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly, providing Steve with the perfect excuse to change the topic which is really convenient because wow, Steve doesn’t have a clue what to say in response to that highly disturbing piece of information.

The noise makes Bucky stir and peel open his eyes, stretching lazily as he glances around, gaze eventually coming to rest on Sam. “Who’s that?”

“Sam,” Tony provides dutifully. “He’s Steve’s boyfriend.”

“’Kay,” Bucky yawns, turning back to Steve. “I’m hungry.”

Sam snorts, amused. “Look at us, confusing and traumatising innocent youngsters with our indecent lifestyle. Quick, someone call Fox News!”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, playfully pinching his thigh. “Or,” he suggests, “we could decide what we want for dinner.”

This is met with enthusiastic nods from both Tony and Bucky, but when Steve goes to shift the two of them off him so he can stand, Tony tenses, looking panicked.

Sam must see it, too, because he holds his arms out to Bucky, smiling. “Come on, let’s go find the menus. You ever had Thai, little man?”

“What’s Thai?” Bucky asks, nose scrunched up adorably, but he lets Sam scoop him up and walk them toward the kitchen so Steve can get up as well and settle Tony on his own hip.

He smoothes a hand over Tony’s hair and, when Tony hums and arches into the touch, brushes a soft kiss over his temple.

Steve isn’t deluding himself into thinking that a few stolen moments of affection will magically-ha!-erase all the insecurities and intimacy issues he knows adult Tony struggles with, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try.

*** * ***

They end up having spaghetti which, on one hand, is an absolute hit with the kids, but catapults bath time from the ‘probably not a bad idea’ right into the ‘absolutely necessary, oh hell, what were we thinking?’ category.

There is sauce everywhere. Steve resolutely refuses to think about the how and why as he stuffs Bucky’s tomato-stained underwear into the laundry hamper.

Behind him in the tub, Bucky squeals in delight, giggling madly, and when Steve turns it’s to find him shaping Tony’s hair into a soapy Mohawk. Tony appears pleased enough with the proceedings, his back to Bucky as he mutters to himself and swishes his hands through the water, happily kicking at the bubbles.

With a warning to stay put, Steve goes to fetch them some PJs from the bag of his nephew’s old clothes that Sam, being the genius that he is, has thankfully brought along.

He’s gone for no longer than two minutes, but that’s apparently long enough.

Tony’s hair his bright blue and Bucky looks like a deer caught in the headlights, what Steve is pretty sure is a now empty bottle of body wash still poised over Tony’s head.

“What,” Steve sighs, not even finding the energy to make it a question.

Sam’s siblings have kids. Steve should’ve been suspicious when Sam had volunteered for kitchen duty and sent Steve off with the boys for bath time.

Damn it.

“I needed more soap,” Bucky says, as if Steve can’t see that.

Damn it.

Washing a month’s supply of body wash out of Tony’s hair takes a good twenty minutes with Tony fidgeting and batting at Steve’s hands and generally acting like Steve is being the most terrible human being in the world for trying to get him clean again.

“It will get in my eyes and it will burn,” Tony repeats for the twelfth time, exasperated, while Bucky just glares at Steve because obviously this is all Steve’s fault. “It will burn my eyes, Steve, no!”

“It won’t get in your eyes if you stop wriggling about,” Steve repeats, also for the twelfth time.

Bucky glares harder. “You’re hurting him.”

“You’re next, pal, don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Steve says and points a stern finger at him, then spends the next five minutes chasing a naked, slippery, screeching six-year-old through the apartment.

Tony, equally naked and dripping, runs after them, laughing.

Sam is taking pictures on his phone.

*** * ***

“I’m still mad at you,” Steve grouses when Sam flops down on the couch next to him, nestling against Steve’s side and pulling Bucky into his lap. “So mad.”

“No you’re not,” Tony announces smugly, tipping his head back against Steve’s chest and reaching up to jab a finger at his mouth. “You’re smiling.”

It’s nice to see him being confident enough around Steve and Sam by now that he feels safe speaking up, but it would be even nicer if he were on Steve’s side.

“Aw, baby, no” Sam chuckles, smacking a wet kiss to Steve’s cheek. Bucky pulls a face so Sam bends down and does the same to him, making him grimace and shriek with laughter. Nodding at the TV he asks, “What are we watching?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve accuses mildly, obediently opening his mouth so Tony can feed him another handful of pop corn. He likes doing that for some reason. And Steve likes pop corn, so he isn’t about to complain. “Matilda. Tony chose.”

Tony twists around to glance up at Sam, a little fearful, clearly looking for approval. “It’s about a girl who’s really smart and likes to read a lot, but people are mean to her because they think she’s weird.”

“I like books, too,” Bucky pipes up, flushing bright red and quickly concentrating back on the movie when Tony positively beams at him.

“Someone has a crush,” Sam mouths, grinning from ear to ear, and Steve just shrugs and whispers back, “Nothing new, there.”

*** * ***

After finding three knives and Bucky’s favourite gun stashed in and around his bed, Steve, wisely he thinks, decides to put the kids up in the guest room for the night. It might even be better, having them close like that. Definitely safer.

Tony and Bucky are dead on their feet, but somehow manage to tap into a secret stash of energy at the prospect of a sleepover, chattering excitedly about staying up all night and, maybe, building a fort while Steve and Sam go to fetch extra pillows and sheets to make up the bed.

They’re both asleep before Sam pulls the door shut behind himself and Steve, who isn’t faring much better, letting out an exhausted groan as his head hits the pillow and barely registering Sam throwing an arm across his chest anymore.

He’s woken by knees digging into his stomach shortly after dawn, blindly reaching out to snag Bucky and pull him close, ignoring his giggling protests and lifting the covers for Tony to crawl under which he does a moment later, curling against Steve’s side.

Sam snores through it all and Steve gets in another half hour of dozing until Tony and Bucky get too restless.

Not being a morning person is apparently one thing that adult and kid Tony have in common, though Bucky isn’t deterred in the least by his grumpiness, taking him by the hand to lead him to the kitchen for breakfast.

In fact, Bucky doesn’t let go at all while they eat, determined to do everything one-handed and, consequentially, spilling most of his juice and getting syrup all over his pyjama top.

“How about you go back to holding hands once you’re finished?” Steve suggests as he watches Bucky struggle to spear a piece of pancake.

Bucky stares at him as if that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “Tony’s my boyfriend an’ boyfriends hold hands.”

“When did that happen?” Sam wants to know, quirking an eyebrow and pointing a fork at them.

It’s Tony who blushes this time. “Last night. I like Bucky and Bucky likes me, it makes sense.”

“That’s very nice,” Steve smiles, biting back a grin and jabbing an elbow at Sam to get him to do the same. “But being boyfriends doesn’t mean you have to hold hands all the time. Sam and me aren’t holding hands right now, are we?”

“Guess not,” Bucky allows grudgingly and, after a forlorn glance at Tony, starts cutting his food with both hands.

Tony’s lower lip wobbles.

“You can if you want to, though,” Steve amends hastily because, as Sam tells him through his chuckles, he’s a total pushover.

Looks like every day will be bath day.

*** * ***

By mid-afternoon, the rest of the team hesitantly ventures upstairs to Steve and Bucky’s apartment, hovering and staring at them while Bucky and Tony play something that involves several soccer balls from the gym and a lot of screeching and rolling around on the living room floor.

“What are they doing?” Clint asks, perplexed, peeking out from where he’s half-hidden from view by the kitchen door.

Steve glances over his shoulder, sees Bucky pounce on Tony who shrieks and pokes him in the stomach, and shrugs. “Entertaining themselves. It’s not as if we have a whole lot of toys lying around.”

“Kicking a ball under the loveseat scores a point,” Natasha pipes up, perched on the back of a chair at the dining table. “Tony’s winning.”

“How-“ Bruce begins, then apparently decides he doesn’t want to know and shakes his head, going back to scrolling through the data from the explosion on his tablet.

Steve grabs another apple to cut up, smiling when he feels Sam’s chin coming to rest on his shoulder, an arm winding around his waist and Sam whispering a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Steve hums, affectionately rubbing their cheeks together. “How was work?”

“Still mostly catching up on paperwork,” Sam grumbles half-heartedly, kissing the side of Steve’s head before picking up a banana and a knife.

Bumping their hips together, Steve teases, “Regretting the move already? Holding down a regular job and being a superhero must be hard, even if it’s only part-time. If it’s too much-“

“Oh, shut up,” Sam laughs and swats at him, Steve grinning back happily.

Behind them, Clint is making exaggerated gagging noises. “You guys are disgustingly domestic, you know that?”

Steve sniffs and pokes his tongue out at him.

Everyone gathers around the table for snacks and things are going relatively well right up until Tony offers Bucky his last bite of PB&J and Bucky, face bright red, darts in for a quick, messy kiss that lands somewhere off near Tony’s ear. Going by how Tony’s mouth drops open and he shyly ducks his head, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Okay,” Clint exclaims, actually giddy enough to clap his hands together. “What do we have here?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and lifts his chin. “Tony is my boyfriend. Boyfriends kiss. We do all sorts of boyfriend things.”

“And it only took six months and a spell,” Natasha mutters, expertly ducking the napkin Steve throws at her, and wants to know, “Like what?”

This can only end in disaster.

“Like share a bed,” Tony informs her very seriously, Bucky nodding along. “And hold hands and have lunch dates. I helped Steve make lunch for Bucky and Sam said that counts.”

“Totally counts,” Sam confirms, placing a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder. “There was a candle and everything.”

Bucky smirks at Clint, smug. “Yeah, a candle. It totally counts.”

“Totally,” Clint cackles and that’s where it all goes wrong.

Steve isn’t one-hundred percent sure how it happens, but between Clint’s quips, Bucky yelling at him and Tony cussing him out in Italian because he doesn’t know just how many curses Steve has picked up on the battlefields over the years and believes himself safe, Tony turns to Bucky and declares, “We have to get married and become husbands.”

“It’s nice outside, we should hold the wedding on the roof,” Bruce contributes, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, and that’s that.

Natasha sweeps out of the room to organise rings and flowers, dragging Clint along by the ear, Bruce and Sam offer to bake a cake, and Steve is put in charge of clothes.

Which means getting two overexcited six-year-olds clean and into two tiny suits, including bowties, that have mysteriously appeared by the time the three of them come back out of the bathroom.

They look adorable in their matching outfits, and Natasha has managed to transform the rooftop garden into a beautiful party location, a table with the cake and drinks on one side and a raised platform on the other, hundreds of red rose petals leading the way up to it.

“You are all ridiculous,” Steve sighs but can’t help but be impressed by how much effort they all put into this. Besides, seeing Tony and Bucky all excited and ahing and ohing over everything, there’s no chance Steve going to disappoint them by not playing along.

Not even when Bucky demands Steve be the one to marry them and Tony agrees enthusiastically.

They keep the ceremony fairly simple, Sam leading Bucky down their makeshift aisle and then Bruce doing the same for Tony, Natasha handing them the rings, plastic with candy diamonds on top, after Steve gives a short speech, Clint filming the entire thing on his phone.

And then Steve spreads his arms and proclaims, “You may now share your first kiss as husband and husband!”, Sam and Natasha clap and cheer, Clint thrusts his cell at Bruce so he can throw rice as Tony and Bucky lean in and-

A flash of bright, blinding white light and a confused, “What the fuck?” in Bucky’s decidedly adult voice.

“Really?” comes Clint’s disbelieving groan. “A kiss? That’s what it took? Man, this is some fairytale crap right here.”

When Steve manages to blink his eyes back open again, Bucky and Tony are back to their proper size and age, their clothes thankfully having grown along with them, hands still clasped together and mouths mere millimetres apart, both wearing identical expressions of flustered shock.

“I-“ Tony squeaks, a blush starting to creep up the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Bucky who, after a moment to collect himself, takes a deep breath, shrugs, decides, “Screw it,” and presses their lips back together.

Steve intervenes once tongues and teeth get involved, quickly ushering them over to the cake.


	2. Accidental Mpreg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Imagine Bucky and Tony in a casual sort of friends with benefits relationship, with both pining for each other because really they want to be more. Imagine if Tony got pregnant, and he's worried that this is too much commitment for Bucky so he kept it a secret for a while. Bucky is thrilled when he finds out. Because they're silly they thought the other got stuck with the baby and didn't actually want them, and Tony was worried about his parenting skills, but it all works out in the end :)  (Originally posted on 22-June-15 [[X](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/122173407794/imagine-bucky-and-tony-in-a-casual-sort-of-friends)])

“I—I don’t understand,” Bucky stutters, the corners of his mouth turning down into an unhappy frown, and Tony’s heart breaks a little more at the genuine confusion in his expression. “Did I—did I do something wrong?”

And that’s so far from the truth, Tony can’t help but laugh, a broken little sound entirely devoid of any real humour or mirth. “No, you didn’t,” he reassures, then adds, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat, “You were wonderful.”

Bucky closes his eyes, voice quiet and resigned as he asks, “Then why?”

“We always knew this wasn’t a forever sort of arrangement,” Tony shrugs with forced casualness, blinking rapidly against the traitorous tears he can’t allow to fall, not now, not in front of Bucky. “It was fun while it lasted, but I think it’s time to end it. No hard feelings, this doesn’t have to be awkward. We’re all adults here, we can stay friends. Right?”

He knows he sounds desperate, but it’s hard to care about that when all Tony really wants is for Bucky to pull him in close and wrap his arms around him, to lose himself in Bucky’s warmth and his scent, to tell him the truth and beg him to stay.

But life’s not fair, so instead Tony forces a smile, weak and wobbly, and takes another step back, bringing some more distance between them.

“Right,” Bucky parrots, sounding hollow, numb almost. Getting dumped always sucks, no matter the circumstances, Tony knows that from personal experience. “Right. If that’s what you want?”

No, Tony thinks miserably. What he says, though, is, “Yes.”

Bucky nods, hands twitching toward Tony as if to touch, but he thinks better of it at the last moment, letting them fall back to his sides, obviously lost as to what to do now.

Tony spares him the unpleasantness of having to throw out his former whatever they were, walking backwards and gesturing at the door, looking anywhere but at Bucky’s face. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just leave, then. Goodnight.”

He makes it up to his own floor and into his bathroom before the nausea overwhelms him, sending him to his knees, heaving and coughing and sobbing.

It takes an eternity to calm himself down enough to sit up properly, leaned against the side of the tub with one arm thrown over his damp eyes, the other carefully cradling his belly with its tiny swell, the only evidence left of the best six months of Tony’s life.

“Let this be a lesson to you, tesorino,” he croaks, raw and wrecked, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the small bump. “Never do the fuckbuddies thing with the guy you’re in love with. It’s not worth it, it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.”

*** * ***

Rationally, Tony knows he can’t hide out in his penthouse forever, that he has responsibilities to his team and his business, that people will start asking questions soon.

But he isn’t ready to see Bucky yet. The mere thought of sitting at the same table during breakfast or sharing a couch during movie night makes Tony’s stomach clench and his eyes water, and only part of the latter can be blamed on the hormones.

He instructs JARVIS to inform everyone that he’s sick, calls off his meetings for the week, buying himself some time. And he needs it, there’s a lot to figure out. He needs to arrange a replacement for Iron Man since he can’t, and won’t, fight in his current condition. He needs to figure out what to tell the others, the board, the public, and how to tell them.

Sitting on his bed, munching away on mozzarella sticks dipped in sweet-and-sour sauce, which should be disgusting but somehow isn’t, Tony browses mommy message boards and name websites, considers a move.

There’s always the old mansion, although Tony’s reluctant to go back there, hasn’t been since the day of the funeral. But it would be perfect, location-wise, somewhat removed from Bucky and all the painful memories that will undoubtedly come with seeing him on the regular, but still in New York and close enough for Bucky to visit, should he want to see the ba—

No.

Tony can’t let himself hope and dream like that. He’s put an end to this situation for a good reason, to protect himself and the person who’s most important to him now.

A card will do. Probably. A general announcement, to let everyone know once it’s here.

Four months down, only five more to go. Give or take another eighteen or so years.

Tony’s been on his own for all his life, he’ll manage to deal with this, too. Step by step, one day at a time.

“You and me, bambino,” he sighs, gently patting his stomach. “We’ll rock this thing. Can’t do any worse than Howard did.”

*** * ***

Steve comes by on day six of Tony’s new hermit routine, bringing chicken soup and a worried expression.

Tony wears his baggiest clothes and wraps his fluffiest blanket around himself, just to be sure.

“We all miss you,” Steve says, carrying two steaming bowls over to the coffee table. “Is there something we can do? Anything at all?”

Tony shakes his head, fiddling with his spoon. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

It’s obvious that Steve doesn’t believe him. “You know,” he starts, pinning Tony with an all too knowing look, “Buck’s been pretty blue for the last couple of days. You guys have a fight?”

“What? No! Why—why would we—we didn’t—no, we’re okay. We’re good,” Tony word-vomits, then cringes because smooth, real smooth there, Stark.

Steve quirks a supremely unimpressed eyebrow at that. “Whatever is going on, talk to him. This,” he gestures around the apartment and Tony’s dishevelled state, “isn’t helping anyone, least of all you.”

A big part of Tony wants to snap at him, to yell and scream and cry, because whatever Steve thinks is going on between Tony and Bucky, Tony’s fairly sure he isn’t thinking about no strings attached fucking. Steve’s a traditional guy when it comes to these sorts of things, a romantic, an idealist.

Not someone who’d suspect his two best friends getting it on behind his back because one of these friends is helplessly, madly in love with the other and will accept even the tiniest scraps of attention, even though he knows having had a taste will hurt so much more in the end. 

Steve leaves, eventually, with the offer to be there and listen whenever Tony needs it, and the reminder to go see Bucky, or at least call.

Tony does neither.

*** * ***

Tony finds a doctor who promises to be discreet and has her sign several NDAs before he so much as hints to why he needs an appointment.

She tells him he’s eighteen weeks along and that the baby is healthy, then proceeds to scold him for not having sought anyone out sooner.

Tony spends the drive home choking on his guilt.

He considers, but in the end, he opts not to show Bucky the ultrasound pictures.

*** * ***

It’s almost three o’clock in the morning, two weeks after the break-up, when the knocking starts.

Still half-asleep, Tony drags himself across his apartment to open the door and possibly strangle whoever’s the cause of all the noise, freezing at the sight of Bucky, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks wet as he sways and struggles to stay upright.

“You’re wasted,” he blurts, wary but simultaneously impressed, because getting a supersoldier drunk is no small feat.

“That’s my shirt,” Bucky slurs, snagging a finger into the strap of the black tank Tony may or may not have stolen out of the laundry hamper in a particularly weak moment of pathetic longing.

Tony stops breathing at that, glancing down at himself and realising Bucky’s shirt and a pair of briefs are all he’s wearing, offering a perfect, unhindered view of the unmistakable roundness of his stomach. In a fit of panic, Tony goes to slam the door closed but Bucky, despite his inebriated state, is faster, pushing into the room with his gaze fixed exactly where Tony doesn’t want it.

“Tony, what—“

“Leave, just go,” Tony pleads, nevertheless leaning into Bucky’s touch when Bucky ghosts his fingers over his belly, Tony’s eyes fluttering shut with a quiet, strangled whine.

“Tony,” Bucky breathes, crowding into Tony’s space, “why didn’t you say?”

Going for dismissive but missing by a mile, Tony mumbles, “It’s not your problem.”

“Not my pro—“ Bucky starts, backing off a little when Tony flinches at the sudden anger, holding up his hands to show he means no harm. “But it’s mine, yeah? My kid?”

Tony nods jerkily, manages a hoarse, “Yeah, it’s yours.”

There were a lot of scenarios Tony had imagined over the last few weeks, a lot of ways he’d pictured Bucky reacting to the news that he’s going to be a father. Bucky falling to his knees, making a wounded keening sound, his trembling hands pressed over his mouth wasn’t one of them.

“Bucky?” Tony asks hesitantly, startling a little when Bucky moves forward and reaches out again, palms coming to rest lightly on either side of Tony’s stomach, blinking up at Tony all lost and vulnerable.

“Tony, please,” he begs, not holding back the tears Tony automatically goes to brush away, “please let me be a part of this, let me fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes, darlin’, please. I can do more, or less, whatever you need, just tell me. You don’t have to love me back, I ain’t askin’ you to, but don’t shut me out, let me be there for you. For my kid. Please, Tony.”

Knees are traitors, Tony decides as his give out, practically falling into Bucky’s arms and clinging to him, hands curled into his shirt and face buried in his neck, mouthing at his skin and breathing him in for the first time in what feels like forever.

“You—you—“ Tony tries, whole sentences beyond him, but Bucky’s nodding already, laughing wetly and kissing Tony’s temple, hands moving soothingly up and down his back.

“I love you, I love you,” he confirms, squeezing Tony tightly. “So much, doll, more than anythin’.”

“I didn’t know,” Tony says and then they’re kissing and crying and clutching at each other, until Tony manages to pull back enough to whisper, “You too, baby, I love you, too.”

*** * ***

The baby monitor hums and before the first wail even reaches Tony’s ears, Bucky is already up and moving across the bedroom toward the nursery.

Smiling lazily, Tony turns enough to switch on the live-feed to the baby’s room, watching his husband pick up the fussing boy and cradle him against his shoulder, rocking him gently, nose buried in the fuzz of downy-soft hair.

The baby quiets slowly while Bucky paces, kissing one of his chubby cheeks and murmuring softly.

Tony’s dozing again when the bed dips, hands coming up on instinct to hold the warm, squiggling bundle that’s being placed on his chest, cracking open one eye to glare half-heartedly at Bucky.

“He’s supposed to sleep in his crib, not in our bed. He’ll get used to staying with us and think we’re punishing him when we don’t bring him in here anymore.”

Bucky’s response to that is to snuggle up against Tony and nuzzle the side of his neck, offering one finger to Luca, who immediately goes and grabs it with his own, much smaller ones.

“I love you,” Bucky breathes against Tony’s lips, giving the bottom one a playful nip.

Tony sighs, fighting back the fond grin he knows is about to break free. “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” Bucky chuckles, diving back in for another peck.

“Ah, ah,” Luca declares, wriggling contentedly.

“See,” Bucky smirks, “the kid agrees with me.”

Tony flicks his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baby's full name is Luca Stefano, in case anyone was wondering.


	3. Asexual Tony II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to my [asexual Tony ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273581/chapters/8270782) from way back when. (Originally posted on 22-Jul-15 [[X](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/125008253759/a-sequel-to-my-asexual-tony-ficlet-from-way-back)])
> 
> **Warnings** for Tony putting himself in a situation he isn’t comfortable with, and for the most cliché misunderstanding ever.

The first clue is Steve’s frowning face and a confused, “I have no idea where he is, we usually spar together on Tuesdays and Thursdays,“ when Tony intercepts him in front of the gym and asks if Bucky’s still in the changing rooms.

But Tony doesn’t think much of it, assumes he’s somehow mixed up the days which, honestly, would be just like him. He can’t even remember his own schedule and appointments, so it’s really not all that much of a surprise that he’s gotten Bucky’s wrong.

He has mostly forgotten about it by the time Bucky comes to drag him out of the workshop for their dinner date, preoccupied with pouting and grumbling about the fact that Bucky’s already squeaky clean and dressed.

“Cruel and heartless,” Tony whines as a laughing Bucky pushes him toward the bathroom. “I feel deprived, my heart has been broken, James, irreparably and-“

Bucky shuts him up with a kiss, fingers finding their way into Tony’s greasy hair, carefully working out the worst of the tangles. “You’re a menace,” he sighs fondly, against Tony’s lips, but nevertheless shucks his own clothes and follows Tony into the shower.

It has taken them months, and a lot of trial and error, to find the perfect equilibrium in their relationship, to find and draw the line between the intimacy Tony likes and enjoys, and the intimacy that is too close to sexual for Tony to be comfortable with.

Shared showers, it turns out, are awesome. Which, Tony reflects, letting his head fall forward with a contented hum, might have something to do with Bucky’s massages and the fact that Bucky loves working his magic on Tony just as much, if not more, as Tony loves giving himself over to those clever hands.

And if Bucky sometimes needs a few more minutes after Tony has already stepped outside and started towelling himself dry, well, then that’s perfectly all right with both of them. Tony had tried once, in the early days, to take care of Bucky himself, stubbornly insisting that he was fine even though his hand was shaking around Bucky’s dick and his heart beating painfully fast, his vision turning fuzzy and black around the edges with growing panic.

Bucky had held him through it, nuzzling Tony’s neck and murmuring reassuring nonsense until Tony had been able to breathe normally again, and then he’d yelled at Tony for a good five minutes about being an idiot before pulling him into another comforting hug.

Today, Bucky seems to be happy with kissing Tony, slow and deep, arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, their flaccid cocks nestled together between them, something Tony has discovered he’s extremely okay with; he wants to touch Bucky everywhere, feel all of Bucky without having to fear that he’s going to be called a tease or expected to give Bucky unlimited access to his body in return.

But Bucky never makes any demands, allows Tony to explore to his heart’s content, for hours at a time on the rare occasions Tony has the patience for it, simply lying spread out on their bed while Tony takes what he needs until Bucky excuses himself to relieve himself before crawling back under the covers to curl around Tony, holding him close while they fall asleep.

“You still in there?” Bucky asks, chuckling when Tony blinks himself back into the present, a little dazed. “What’s going on in that brain of yours, huh?”

“I love you,” Tony mumbles, his stomach still doing that warm, fluttery thing every time Bucky’s face brightens at those three words, eyes crinkling at the corners and mouth stretching into an answering smile. 

“Love you, too,” Bucky whispers back, ducking down for another kiss.

They don’t make their reservation, but then again, that’s nothing new.

It isn’t until they’re snuggled up together later that night, Bucky mouthing lazily at Tony’s shoulder, more asleep than awake, that Tony remembers to ask, “Hey, where were you this afternoon?”

“Training with Steve,” Bucky yawns, “thought I’d told ya.”

Tony doesn’t call him out on the lie, caught too much off guard, but it takes him hours to find sleep, his mind reeling and his eyes burning.

*

After that, Tony starts paying attention, and he doesn’t like what he finds, not one bit.

Although he should have known, Tony berates himself, he really should have. It’s what happens whenever he tries this whole relationship stuff, whenever he opens up, allows himself to be vulnerable and lets other people in.

He shouldn’t be so startled by this, and a big part of him isn’t, but it still hurts.

Oh God, does it hurt.

At least once a week, Bucky leaves the tower for several hours, making up excuses which, when Tony goes to check, are never the truth, always made up. On those days, Bucky makes sure to be showered before he comes down to the workshop or up to the penthouse, washing away the evidence of whatever it is he’s been doing, and Tony can and does guess what that might be.

The final straw, however, is the hickey Bucky claims is not a hickey at all but a bruise. A bruise high up on his neck which he, allegedly, got when he walked into a door. A bruise. On his neck. From walking into a door.

Seriously.

So Tony starts scheming, and slowly but steadily forms a plan.

Because Tony sure as hell is not going down without a fight.

*

“What?” Bucky squeaks, backing away from where Tony’s sprawled out on the bed, naked and flushed from the half bottle of scotch he downed to give himself some liquid courage. “Tony, what?”

Propping himself up on his elbows and silently congratulating himself on not immediately falling down again, Tony repeats, somewhat slurred, “I told you to fuck me, Buck.”

“Yeah, no,” Bucky croaks, still moving away from Tony, which is all kinds of wrong, “I got that. Tony, why-“

“Because it’s what you want,” Tony shrugs, trying for indifferent but probably landing somewhere closer to scared, going by how stiff the movement feels. “It’s okay, baby, I know you do. I’ve done it before, it’s okay. I know you want to-“

“I don’t!” Bucky practically yells, yanking his arm away when Tony reaches out to make a grab for him. “I mean, yeah, sure, you know I’d love to if it was something you wanted, too, but it ain’t, we talked about this, I know it ain’t, so no, I don’t want to-“

“Then why,” Tony snaps, ignoring the tears clumping his lashes together, instead baring his teeth in an angry snarl, “are you fucking someone else?”

Bucky freezes at that, seemingly unable to do more than stare at Tony for a long, tense moment before he slumps down on the edge of the bed, hand trembling when it comes to gently, oh so gently rest on Tony’s ankle, as if he thinks Tony might actually push him off instead of scrambling closer like he does, tucking himself against Bucky and pressing his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“There’s no one else, darlin’, no one but you,” Bucky promises shakily, one arm holding Tony tightly while his free hand strokes up and down Tony’s spine, slow and soothing. “I’d never do that to you, I wouldn’t. Never. I love you, Tony, you know that, don’t you? I love you.”

“But you lied,” Tony mutters, voice small and uncertain now as all the suspicions and insecurities about what’s going on spill out of him, ending with, “So what was I supposed to think? It’s what always happens, sooner or later.”

Tony makes a broken, dismayed sound when Bucky pushes him back so he can get up, but Bucky smiles and drops a kiss on his forehead, then goes to fetch his jacket and retrieve a small, silken baggie from its pocket before settling on the bed again, pulling Tony in to lean against him.

“I’m sorry I lied,” Bucky begins, easing open the bag’s strings, “but I wanted this to be a surprise.” He tips the baggie over, a piece of silver metal falling into his palm. “It’s not ready yet, but I guess it’s now or never; Tony, you’re the love of my life, I’m not cheating, I’ve been sneakin’ out to go to this workshop I found online so I could make your ring myself ‘cause, well, you’re the one with the money so I thought I might as well be the one doin’ the romantic stuff and, Christ, just, will you marry me?”

Rendered completely speechless, Tony traces a finger over what, on second glance, could indeed be the crude beginnings of something that will eventually turn into a ring. “You- a ring- but-“ Tony stutters, glaring half-heartedly when Bucky ducks his head to hide his laughter in Tony’s hair. “But the solo showers? And,” he pokes the hickey-bruise on Bucky’s neck, “this?”

“What, you tellin’ me you wouldn’t have known exactly where I’d been going if you’d gotten one whiff of me smellin’ like fire, coal and metal?” Bucky grins, letting himself be manoeuvred onto his back, hands coming to settle on Tony’s hips when Tony stretches out on top of him. “As for the bruise, I, uh, kinda hit myself with a hammer? Smithery’s apparently not a viable career option for me.”

“How did you manage to-“ Tony starts, but then cuts himself off with a snort and a shake of his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he states instead, leaning down to brush his lips over Bucky’s. “Absolutely ridiculous. And a terrible liar. Really, that’s the best you could do? I’m embarrassed for you, you’re a tragedy, Barnes.”

“A ridiculous tragedy,” Bucky nods, mock-serious, then rolls them over so he’s got Tony bracketed between his arms, peppering kisses all over his face. “I’m taking that as a yes, by the way.”

Tony grins, giddy with joy. “How very presumptuous of you.”

“You haven’t said no,” Bucky points out reasonably, smile turning softer as he moves in again to rub their noses together.

“No, I haven’t,” Tony agrees, arching up to kiss him again, his “Yes, of course yes, always yes,” swallowed by Bucky’s eager mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's finally updating this series. Honestly, this is pretty much what my real life looks like, too, hahaha. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. Bodyswap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Imagine magical bodyswap or genderswap Tony/Bucky, with or without body dysmorphia and OMG I HAD NO IDEA MY POOR BOO or smutty lets explore! times before the magical mayhem's undone. (Originally posted on 27-July-15 [[X](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/125178033451/imagine-magical-bodyswap-or-genderswap-tonybucky)])

Tony blinks against the harsh neon lights of the infirmary, peeling open bleary eyes and doing his best to bring the blurred, swimming ceiling into focus while swallowing repeatedly to keep the nausea at bay.

“Tony?” comes a hesitant voice from his right and Tony turns toward it, immediately regretting the movement when pain, sharp and acute, shoots through his head.

“Ow.”

A gentle hand settles on his forehead, the cool pressure making Tony sigh in relief and lean into the metallic touch as much as possible without actually moving.

“Buck?” Tony slurs, once again forcing his eyes open to peer up at Bucky’s stricken, ashen face. “Baby? ‘S wrong?”

Bucky’s smile is wobbly, the thumb stroking back and forth over Tony’s temple trembling ever so slightly. “Tony? Is that really you?”

Which, huh, is a pretty unusual question, Tony’s fairly sure about that, even through the concussion he suspects he’s suffering from. “What? Expecting someone else?”

“Missed your cockiness,” Bucky laughs shakily, bending down to brush the lightest of kisses over Tony’s lips. “What’s the last thing you remember, darling?”

“I-“ Tony starts, then frowns when all he gets is a big fat load of nothing. “I- I don’t know?”

***

A series of loud, irregular beeps is all the warning they get before the small device begins to vibrate, hissing angrily and emitting clouds of thick, green mist.

“Anyone else have a bad feeling about this?” Barton asks from his perch up on the warehouse’s support beams. “Because I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“What is that thing?” Steve demands at the same time as Bucky reaches out to grab Tony’s shoulder with a tense, “C’mon, get back.”

It’s a sign of how serious the situation is, Bucky thinks, wryly amused, when Tony doesn’t protest about being pulled away from strange and therefore automatically interesting technology.

“I need the suit,” Tony mumbles absently, pocketing his tools and dusting off his knees after allowing Bucky to pull him back to his feet. “JARVIS can run diagnostics on-“

That’s as far as Tony gets, the sudden mechanical screeching from the device drowning out the rest of his sentence. The mist turns an oily black and then the device blows, Bucky just having enough time to sling an arm around Tony’s waist and turn them around so his own back is to the explosion while Steve drags Natasha behind one of the many pillars, Thor and the Hulk thankfully still outside securing the perimeter.

The last thing Bucky feels before everything goes dark is a wave of agonising heat rolling over him.

*

The first thing Bucky feels when he wakes up is a painful pressure in his chest, pushing against his lungs and making catching a full breath impossible.

Panicked, Bucky shoots up into a sitting position, hands fumbling with what he dimly recognises as one of those flimsy paper hospital gowns until he finally, finally finds-

Glass?

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Bucky grunts, uncomprehending, hands still moving probingly over the circle of pain in his sternum. “Shit, fuck, what the hell?”

“Tony, hey, calm down,” Bruce says from the foot of the bed, hands held up placatingly. “It’s 2016, you’re in Manhattan, the Arc Reactor is working perfectly, you’re safe.”

Bucky stares at him for a long moment, blinking dumbly. “Tony? Why’re you callin’ me Tony? What’s going on? What-“

“Buck?” Steve guesses tentatively from a chair between Bucky’s bed and another bed where-

Where Bucky is lying, unconscious and still.

Stretching his - not his? - arms out in front of himself, Bucky takes in the olive skin and the calloused fingers, heart sinking with every new detail he discovers.

“Oh,” he groans eventually, hands pressed over the Arc Reactor in his, in Tony’s chest. “Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me!”

*

After Bruce and JARVIS both reassure him that Tony inside Bucky’s body is fine, at least physically, Bucky finds he’s glad, as macabre as that sounds, that Tony isn’t conscious for this whole debacle.

It had taken Bucky years, according to what he remembers from his time under HYDRA’s control and the few files they’d found on the subject, to get used to his prosthetic and the way it constantly exchanges information with his brain, a sensation like liquid fire in his already raw and tender nerves.

It has gotten better since having Tony do maintenance on the arm, of course, more of an annoyance than actual discomfort, but that doesn’t change the fact that Bucky wouldn’t want Tony to have to suffer through the experience.

Not that Tony seems to be unaccustomed to pain, though, Bucky thinks with a grimace, rubbing a finger over the raised, tender scars around the light in his chest.

“How are you doing?” Steve asks quietly, mindful of the still sleeping Tony on the bed, lowering himself into the chair next to Bucky and handing over a steaming cup of coffee from the nurses’ private stash, if the lack of a chalky aftertaste is anything to go by. Nodding at Tony, Steve adds, “Any change?”

“No,” Bucky says through an exhausted yawn, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, “no change.”

Steve, bless the man, doesn’t point out how long Bucky’s been sitting here or suggest that he go up to the penthouse, the empty penthouse, to catch some shuteye, just moves closer to press his shoulder against Bucky’s, offering quiet comfort and support.

“I feel lightheaded,” Bucky starts after a while, dropping his head to rest it on Steve’s shoulder. “I can barely get enough air, I’m constantly on the verge of passin’ out due to a lack of oxygen, or, at least, that’s what it feels like. My ribs hurt. Like someone’s tryin’ to pry them apart, puttin’ pressure on them. The skin around the reactor, something tugs at it every time I move wrong. Feels like it’s being ripped right outta my chest every time that happens. Steve,” he chokes out, arching into Steve’s hand when it comes to land on his back, stroking up and down his spine, “I had no idea. I had no idea how much he’s hurting.”

“Tony’s incredibly strong,” is all Steve says to that, pushing his nose into Bucky’s hair and kissing Bucky’s forehead. “Strong and proud.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at that, turning his face into Steve’s neck. “Yeah. Yeah, you can say that again.”

They sit in silence after that, Bucky dozing on and off until Bruce and Doctor Cho turn up to run some more tests.

“All right,” Bucky sighs, standing and moving closer to Tony. It’s a little weird to brush the hair out of his own slack face, especially since no one is one-hundred percent sure that it is actually Tony inside of Bucky’s body, but Bucky doesn’t let that deter him. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I love you,” he whispers, bending down for a quick kiss.

The next thing Bucky knows, he’s struggling to sit up on the bed and Tony’s body is lying on the floor, Steve’s wide eyes flickering back and forth between them.

***

“My Prince Charming,” Tony coos, chuckling, removing Bucky’s hand from his forehead, bringing it down to his mouth to kiss Bucky’s knuckles. “So, what? We were hit by a fairytale curse?”

“No idea,” Bucky shrugs, lips twitching up into an amused grin before his expression turns serious again, splaying his free hand over the glass of the Arc Reactor. “Tony, I-“

“Don’t,” Tony interrupts, then, quieter, “please.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip, clearly not pleased, but nods. Carefully, he helps Tony shift to make some more room, sliding into bed with Tony and snuggling up close to him.

“There nothing I can do about it,” Tony says eventually, sighing contentedly at Bucky’s hand moving slowly through his hair. “I got used to it.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, wiggling his metal fingers against the back of Tony’s head. “Kinda know what you mean. And,” he allows reluctantly, “I don’t want people to pity me, either. So, I get it. I really do. Still sucks, though.”

“Still sucks,” Tony agrees, but he’s smiling into Bucky’s chest, rubbing his cheek against it.

Bucky hums happily, kissing the top of Tony’s head. “Love you, darling.”

“I know,” Tony grins, just to hear Bucky huff indignantly. “Love you, too.”


	5. Knockout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Imagine Steve and Tony fighting and Steve is gesturing wildly with his hands and accidentally slaps Tony in the face. Tony gets knocked out and hit his head on the ground. Bucky knew that Steve and Tony didn't always get along and didn't see the context of the fight, so he freaks out.  (Originally posted on 27-September-15 [[X](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/post/129287843426/imagine-steve-and-tony-fighting-and-steve-is)])

Tony groans himself back into consciousness, blinking dazedly in an attempt to bring the blurry shape floating above him into focus.

“Steee?” he slurs thickly and tries to lift his head, giving a miserable little whimper and screwing his eyes shut again when even that slightest of movements is enough to send a wave of nausea through him. “What happened?”

A low, threatening growl, followed by the unmistakable, very familiar sound of Steve’s Exasperated Sigh. “It was an accident, Buck, jeez,” Steve grumbles, but his voice wobbles ever so slightly, is laced with worry.

Lips pressed tightly together, just in case he’s going to embarrass himself and throw up after all, Tony shifts, slowly and carefully, and chances a glance at the corner of the living room where, sure enough, Bucky is hovering awkwardly which, huh.

That’s unexpected. Tony hasn’t so much as seen a glimpse of Bucky over the last two weeks, has been thoroughly ignored, all his attempts at finding out what he’s done wrong and to apologise having been firmly rejected.

Tony’s traitorous heart picks up speed nonetheless, the persistent butterflies in his stomach kicking it up a notch because, to absolutely no one’s surprise, Tony’s completely, pathetically gone on someone who doesn’t feel the same. 

“Tony?” Steve asks anxiously, moving into Tony’s line of sight and pressing a huge, blessedly cool hand to Tony’s forehead. “How are you feeling? JARVIS scanned you, he says you don’t have a concussion, but are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“What did you do to your face?” Tony interrupts the increasingly panicked babbling, reaching out with an uncoordinated hand to poke at the dark bruise covering most of Steve’s cheek and eye. “Thought I was the one who got knocked out?”

Steve ducks his head, clearly ashamed. “So you remember? Tony, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear. You walked right into my fist and-“

“I know. Steve, hey, it’s fine, I know you didn’t mean to,” Tony shushes him, giving his cheek another pat before dropping his hand. “That doesn’t answer my question, though.”

Bucky twitches forward, as if to stop Steve from saying anything, but Steve, suddenly looking suspiciously smug, bursts out with, “Bucky punched me.”

“I-“ Tony says, then has to stop and think for a moment because what? “What? Why?”

“Steve-“ Bucky starts warningly and, Tony rubs at his eyes to make sure he isn’t hallucinating from getting thrown across the room by Captain America, actually blushes.

“Because,” Steve singsongs, batting away the hand Bucky goes to clamp over his mouth, “Bucky is very protective of the people he cares about. Especially the people he loves but is too dumb to realise love him back.”

Bucky buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. “For fuck’s sake, Stevie.”

Getting back to his feet, Steve grins happily and declares, “My work here is done!” before quickly darting out of the room, expertly dodging the kick Bucky aims at him.

“Tony,” Bucky says quietly, studiously looking anywhere but at Tony struggling up onto his elbows. “I-“

“There’s a bump right here,” Tony talks over him, pointing at his temple. “You should kiss it better.”

“Oh,” Bucky croaks. Then, “Oh. Oh, is that so?”

Tony nods, humming happily at the brush of Bucky’s lips over his skin. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky whispers, smiles, and kisses him properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story: I don't remember writing this, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works), or come over and say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Might Think (But Don't Think)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749140) by [sadieb798](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798)




End file.
